A few years ago, my dear friend Matt* called me in a complete and total panic.
"I think I might have ruined my cousin's wedding," he moaned, his whiskey voice sounding about eight octaves lower than usual.
I took a deep breath. Here. We. Go. "Matt. What the hell did you do?"
"Well, basically I got blackout drunk before the ceremony, thought it would be funny to push the bride in full hair, makeup and gown into the pool, proceeded to have a fist fight with my uncle and for some unknown reason called him a pretty bad gay slur, which is ironic as he's totally straight and I'M THE GAY. Oh god, Z. I'm spiraling. The bride cried her eyes out and had to be carried up stairs. I don't even remember doing it. This is a new low. Even for us, Z."
For "us"? Really? I was all the way across the country, and somehow Matt had looped me into his sins. However, Lord knows I'm no angel myself, so I understand the necessity of dragging your friends down the rabbit hole with you in order to feel less alone in the shame. So I let it go.
"Oh god, Matt! Well, did you apologize?"
"No. They're all at the Sunday post-wedding brunch now, and I'm hiding under the sheets of my hotel room. I can't find my shoes. I'm a WRECK. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO FACE MY FAMILY AGAIN." His panic was palpable through my phone.
"Well, yes," I said. "This one is pretty bad. You were the hot mess gay cliché. HOWEVER, look on the bright side. Weddings are basic as f*ck, and you added a bit of SPICE to an otherwise boring event."
"Ugh, you're right, Z. You always know what to say. I love you."
I hung up the phone and poured myself an extra large glass of wine in solidarity with my friend and his booze-fueled reckless behavior. As I sipped my glass of wine and gazed out of the dirty window of my studio, I began to really question the whole concept of weddings to begin with.
I get it. YOU FELL IN LOVE. But what have you really accomplished by falling in love? You just got lucky. Either that, or you're settling down because you feel like you have to.
And seriously, the idea that FINDING A HUSBAND OR WIFE is your biggest achievement, one that is worthy of grandiose party and a $10,000 dress, is obscene. I think the fact that I've made it to 30 years old without getting an STD is a feat far more worthy of celebration. Where is my Vera Wang gown and bevy of bridesb*tches who will follow me around in vile dresses that only make me look prettier?
If you're like me and the only wedding you really want to attend is a fab destination wedding, or a sinful gay wedding, or a celebrity fashion wedding, follow these steps to get yourself blacklisted from all BASIC, boring weddings for life.
Wear a sexy, black cut-out romper.
Look, the masses insist that the worst thing a girl can do at a wedding is wear WHITE (gasp). I sorely disagree. We actually love the girl who wears white to the wedding because we can talk sh*t about her instantly. We arrive at weddings ravenous to find the b*tch clad in all white to hate on.
If you want to be really, TRULY want to be hated at a wedding, you want to be hated for being FABULOUS, not for being basic and clueless (this is true in weddings and in life).
Nothing will rile up the bride who is probably wearing an ugly, puffy, white, virgin-sacrifice dress than you wearing something HOT and BADASS. As pretty as the color white is, it's got nothing on the swagger of black, darling.
Every time I'm prancing around New York in my summer whites and feeling like a pretty, innocent princess, I will catch a glimpse of a fierce Manhattan woman strutting down the streets in all black attire and instantly feel inferior.
And don't only just go for a black dress, but a scandalous black romper. Like this:
Weddings are literally rooms made up of f*cking floor length floral and pastel. Rompers shake things up. Not only are they technically pants (something the bride and all her maids of dishonor are forbidden to wear), but rompers are sexy in a wonderfully confusing way. People will stare, trying to figure it all out. Rompers scream, "I'm an independent woman."
Make a speech that circles back to you.
Oh, honey, there's no time like toast time. Clutch your champagne with your fire-engine red nails and make a big speech that circles back to you. Here are some examples:
"I feel like now is the perfect time to announce that I've formally accepted to position as CEO of a very important French haircare line. I will be relocating to Paris in two weeks! Oh, but tonight isn't really about me. It's about the beautiful bride and groom. Can you Skype New Jersey all the way from Paris? I think so ..."
Or you can take it dark, my personal favorite. Dim that bright mood, honey:
"In honor of this beautiful day, I feel compelled to tell you I've come down with Celiacs disease..."
Loudly discuss all the dates you have planned this week.
"Well, Mark is taking me to East Hampton over the weekend, and Sue -- I'm seeing women these days, too, in case you didn't know -- well, we have dinner reservations at The Ivy in Beverly Hills on Thursday, though I'm thinking of canceling, because Robert has front row tickets to the premier of the ballet in Moscow that night ..."
Unleash your gorgeous mane.
Everyone wears those hideous updo hairstyles at weddings. It's always flummoxed me. Honestly, who can really rock an updo? Even if you have a textbook gorgeous face, it's unflattering. Nothing in the world is more appealing than loose, luscious hair cascading down your back.
And nothing will piss everyone off (especially the poor bridesmaids who have chignons so tight their eyeballs are stretched back) than letting those gorge locks of yours frame your gorge face like silk curtains.
Make sure your hair is super shiny. Invest in a blow out if you have to (just not an overly coiffed one, since the intention is too look effortlessly gorgeous. Nothing pisses people off more than effortless beauty).
Also, if you don't naturally have amazing horse mane hair, get some clip-in extensions. That's what yours truly did before she nursed her hair back to health.
You think these gorgeous auburn waves were mine?! Hell to the no.
Hook up with the bridesmaids if you're a lez or the 21-year-old cousin if you're straight.
Lesbians, get down and dirty with the bridesmaids. So what if they're "straight"? Your sexy swagger in that black romper will be irresistible to anyone -- male or female, gay or straight. Plus, nothing takes the attention away from the bride like a lesbian sex scandal from her maids of dishonor.
Straight girls: Corrupt the 21-year-old cousin who is a virgin. That will definitely throw the ~fire~ on the ~flames~.
Have extreme dietary restrictions.
You're gluten-free, sugar-free, paleo, vegan and on A RAW DIET CLEANSE.
Make guests extra irritated by smoking heaps of cigarettes after you tell people this. There is nothing better than having a little puff on a heat stick after rambling on and on about your "commitment to health."
Smoke weed with the "kids."
You know there will be a pack of "kids" (yes, yes, 21+ kids) smoking a little reefer by the lake. Strut over to them and really show 'em how to smoke a joint, babe. Bring them all back, parading around you like your glorious tribe, high as a kite.
That will make everyone really, really, really happy with you.
Share your blacklist tips with me on my Facebook, darlings. Because you know I'm always looking for ways to bump things up.
*Name has been changed.